


After the storm

by KelticBanshee



Series: Seduction Moves 'verse [5]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-03
Updated: 2010-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 07:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelticBanshee/pseuds/KelticBanshee





	After the storm

Ianto startled awake when the SUV came to a halt. He blinked, trying to clear his head. He thought he wouldn't be able to fall asleep that easily after the events of the night before, but he was exhausted. He looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Tosh curled up on the back seat, only to find it empty. His muscles cried out and reminded him not to make _any_ kind of sudden movement. For a second he wondered whether he should have listened to the paramedics – and Owen – and be taken to hospital. Bringing a hand up to his sore neck, he shook his head. He hated hospitals.

"She's home. I made her a cup of tea and helped her get cleaned and into bed." Jack's voice took him out of the whirlwind of thoughts. As the words sunk into what felt like a cotton-filled brain, memories slowly came back to him: Jack leaning towards him, murmuring words that didn't quite register as Tosh got out of the SUV; Tosh staggering into her place, Jack's arm wrapped protectively around her; struggling to stay awake until Jack returned, slowly drifting asleep.

"You left me in the SUV while you put Tosh to bed." Not a question, but a statement. More amused than annoyed. He kept his nearly closed eyes ahead of him, reluctant to look at Jack. He heard the sigh that almost always accompanied those half-smiles Jack was an expert in.

"I kept an eye on you." There it was again, that slight apology in Jack's voice. "Toshiko is strong, Ianto. She'll be all right. We all will." Too tired to even try to find words, he just nodded as images of earlier that morning flashed in his head. Owen's concerned expression as he got on the ambulance with a pale and shocked Gwen. Tosh's haunted look as they collected all the camping gear and packed it into the SUV, trying to busy themselves into what could resemble some kind of normality in order to forget the horrors of the night. Jack's skin-deep grin as he took the wheel and started driving back to Cardiff.

His mind was automatically running through everything that needed doing before he could settle for some rest. The gear had to be stored back in its place, and Jack would only make a mess out of that section of the Archives if it was left to him. Myfanwy probably needed feeding. Reports needed writing. And he had to come up with a reasonable excuse for Tourist Information Office being closed. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to open his eyes, despite the brightness of the day slicing through his head like a sharp knife.

"You brought me...?" The SUV was parked in the driveway of the little Victorian property he was starting to call home. A disbelieving look in his face, he turned to face Jack, completely forgetting his aching muscles until a stab of pain made him yelp. Jack's hand on his knee cut his complaint before it even started.

"You need some rest. Everything else can wait". Looking away, he bit his bottom lip and found himself nodding, acknowledging everything Jack had just implied but not mentioned. The 'you are exhausted', the 'you have been awake for over thirty-six hours', the 'you have been through enough'.

"But..." Jack shushed him again. He could feel Jack's eyes on him as he struggled to think of a good reason – _any_ good reason – why he should be at the Hub instead of at home. He came up empty. Closing his eyes again, he swallowed the knot in his throat. "I don't want to sleep."

"Bad dreams?" He snorted, remembering how just a few nights before he had asked that same question.

"I believe this will qualify for nightmares." Despite his matter-of-fact tone, he knew it would happen. Just as the nightmares had kept him awake for nights on end after Canary Wharf. After Lisa died. After so many things in his life.

"You can at least rest." Jack unbuckled both their seatbelts. "Come on, I'll make you a cup of tea." Rolling his eyes, Ianto forced his tired muscles to move; Jack was already by his side when he stepped out of the SUV and closed the door behind him. He felt his pockets as he walked towards the house, surprised to find his keys were still there. With a trembling hand, he managed to open the door. Kicking off his shoes before entering the hall, he turned around to steal a glance at Jack, standing just a step behind him. Waiting.

"You can't make tea from the garden." His voice came out too close to a whisper, yet again, and it had nothing to do with the cleaver held to his throat just a few hours ago. He shook his head, pushing the memories away. With a grin, Jack walked into the house, pausing only to take off his boots and close the door. He smiled; it still surprised him when Jack remembered.

Jack couldn't help but grin as he made his way down the hall and into the living room, hands in his pockets, barefoot. Ianto always seemed surprised when he remembered little things, like the fact that Ianto didn't like dirty footprints on wooden floors, or mugs on the coffee table without a coaster. Taking his coat off, he draped it on the back of the sofa, knowing full well it would annoy Ianto. But a bit of pouting did suit Ianto – and the exasperated sigh behind him didn't take long. When he turned around, Ianto was clutching his jacket, and looked like he could do with a shower, a hearty meal and a few days of sleep.

"A hot shower would help muffle the pain." For a second, Ianto just stood there as he leaned on the back of the sofa, eyes rambling around. There were some new things in the room since the last time he had been there: a side table between the sofa and the armchair, a painting on the wall. The kitchen looked a bit more lived in than the first time he had visited. The pile of boxes in the corner was smaller and most of them were labelled 'Lisa'. Ianto would probably never open them, but it would be long he thought of getting rid of them, or even of packing them at the back of some closet. Ianto was loyal like that. Even to those who no longer deserved it.

A door closing behind him snapped him out of his thoughts. As the shower started running, he could picture Ianto struggling out of his clothes, every move tugging at aching muscles, the warm water taking away some of the tiredness but never all of it. He would have offered to help, but Ianto had been too quick to retreat into the bathroom. He made his way across the room and leaned against the wall by the door, crossing his arms over his chest. Resisting the urge to nudge the door open just a bit and steal a glance. He'd never been too good at resisting temptation. The door didn't even creak as he pushed it.

"So, why don't I count as a snog?" Like too many times when Ianto was around, his voice didn't sound as lighthearted as he'd like it to. He swallowed the knot on his throat. Ianto bringing up Lisa out of the blue stung more than he would like to admit. He twisted his head to take a peek into the bathroom.

"What?" Ianto sounded genuinely surprised at the question. Jack could picture him rolling his eyes, nervously running a hand through his hair, even though he could barely make out a shadow behind the etched shower screen.

"I mean, if the other night doesn't qualify, what do you call snogging?" He could hear the clattering of toiletries being moved around and water hitting skin. For a moment, his own tired muscles cried out for some attention. His smile widened as he added 'shower' to the list of things he intended to share with Ianto, sooner or later. Whenever things between them settled a bit more. If they ever did.

"You sidestepped the question." The accusation was obvious even in the neutral words. Jack let out a sigh. Why hadn't he said anything? He'd never been one to show and tell just for the thrill of others knowing what he was up to, yet... Where had that need to throw them off the scent, to keep them oblivious to any closeness between him and Ianto, come from?

"I thought you were a private man. Didn't think you would want your life dragged through the public arena. Owen would have a field day if he knew, isn't that what you said a while ago?" Ianto didn't reply, hanging on to that stubborn silence he was a master of. "Were you angry at them?"

"Why would I?" There it was again, Ianto's deadpan style. The definite yet unidentifiable scent he had come to identify with Ianto filled the room. He smiled, wondering if he would get a chance to rummage through the shelves and finally find out what it was. He propped himself from the wall and nudged the door again, just a slight touch. Enough to allow him to see the mirror on the cabinet above the sink.

"You said it yourself". Ianto closed the tap. A hand emerged from the shower and grabbed a towel, impeccably white and probably warm from the towel rack. Jack's pulse raced when Ianto stepped out of the shower, water still dripping down his body. Ianto was covered in bruises and moving even more carefully than before. He swore under his breath, wondering how he could not have seen the obvious thread, pushing away the guilty feeling that always fell over him when Torchwood had too close a shave for comfort. "They went back to their lives and... forgot. " Ianto leaned on the sink, hands planted firmly on the edge, and shook his head. Jack rested his back against the door jamb.

"Have you?" Ianto looked away, reaching for his bathrobe and slipping into it, as if attempting to escape Jack's eyes. A grin froze on his face, and slowly disappeared, as he considered the question. How could he forget?

"I know it still hurts." Ianto stood still for a second, then made his way into the bedroom slamming the door firmly behind him. Jack mentally kicked himself for having started the conversation. He knew Lisa was still a delicate issue between them, but was reluctant to let it rest. They needed clean air between them, not old skeletons rotting in the back of the closet. He was tempted to follow Ianto, but he knew it wouldn't be taken it kindly. Instead, he went back to the kitchen, and started looking for coffee.

Ianto sat on the edge of the bed, still in his bathrobe, for what felt like an eternity. Outside, he could hear Jack pacing around the place, every minute sounding more like the caged wild cat he could sometimes become. In his head, too many thoughts fought for attention at the same time. And he was just too tired to pay attention to any of them. He should have known that camping wasn't a good idea from the moment Jack told him the night before. Two nights before, he corrected, looking at the clock on his bedside table.

Why had Jack asked him to join the team in the mission? Why hadn't he come up with some excuse or another to stay in the Hub? He really wasn't a field agent, he had been a junior researcher in Torchwood One and had never dreamed he would see field work. He let out a sigh as he forced himself to admit that he had been thrilled when Jack offered him the chance. He wanted to be out there, with the team. He had nearly told off Tosh for getting a high of the danger while he struggled to cope with it, yet in the end it had been him who had given her the chance to escape.

Yet that trembling smile she had given him when everything was over nearly made up for the bruises and the pain.

The sound of cupboards being opened and closed – Jack's idea of 'systematically looking for something' – slowly faded into the more familiar clattering of mugs and spoons, and the soft whistling of the kettle slowly bubbling away on the stove. He rolled his eyes, not entirely sure he liked the idea of leaving Jack to rummage through his kitchen for much longer.

Why on Earth was he thinking when he invited Jack in? Jack would never come in uninvited. Jack always asked. Even during his suspension, when Jack found ways to make it clear that he wouldn't leave without making sure Ianto was okay – or as okay as the situation allowed. Jack never even as much as tried to hold the door open when Ianto slammed it shut, almost hitting him.

Jack wouldn't be in his place if he hadn't said anything. Yet somehow the thought of having someone around felt oddly comforting. Even if that someone was Jack.

Or, perhaps, specially if that someone was Jack.

With a sigh, he shook his head and convinced his tired muscles to walk to the wardrobe. It took him a while to put some comfortable clothes on and emerge from the room, half surprised, half relieved that Jack was still there, despite the silence that had settled in the past few minutes.

From behind the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area, Jack grinned at him. Yet another skin deep grin. Ianto's gaze went from Jack to the two mugs in front of him and back.

"You actually made tea?" Ianto crossed the living room in a few strides and picked one of the mugs up, all too aware of the look of incredulity in his face. In the many nights Jack had visited him during, and after, his suspension, he had never bothered to step into the kitchen other than to fetch ice for the drinks, and Jack didn't strike him as the type to get on well with cafetieres.

"No. I made coffee." Ianto took a sip, expecting something better than Owen's foul version of the drink but not by much. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. It was good, full-bodied and steaming hot, with none of the bitterness that came from pouring the water over the coffee when it was still boiling. Almost as good as his own, even if he wasn't ready to admit it.

"Remind me," Ianto's mouth curled in the beginning of a smile "to remind you why you hired me." Mug in hand, he made his way to the sofa and sat down, a sigh of relief escaping his lips."When I'm awake." Jack laughed out loud, and, for the first time since they started setting up camp the day before, he thought maybe, just maybe, he'd eventually be okay.

"So... I'm guessing you don't want me to make you something to eat?" He paused, mug halfway between his lips and the table, and looked at Jack. Captain Harkness, he corrected himself, still trying to look after his team, still blaming himself for the nightmarish events on the Brecon Beacons and trying to be the dashing hero. "I should go, let you get some sleep..." He swallowed the knot on his throat as Jack made his way to the sofa and grabbed his coat. He turned around slowly and stared up at those tired blue eyes, grabbing one of Jack's hands before he had a chance to walk away.

"Stay?" Were they going to re-enact the same conversation again? He kept his eyes on Jack until he put down the coat and leaned down to place a soft kiss on his forehead. Closing his eyes, Ianto let go of Jack's hand. "There are fresh towels in the bathroom, if you want a shower." Merely a whisper as he felt himself drift into sleep again.

Jack smiled as Ianto's eyes fluttered close despite his efforts to stay awake. Ianto didn't even stir when he kissed him again, barely a press of lips to his forehead. It made for a change from the tension that always settled on Ianto whenever he got too close. Even a few days ago, the night after Estelle died, Ianto seemed coiled to run away at a moment's notice. But it wasn't surprising that Ianto was too tired to worry about anything, after the gruelling day they had had.

What on Earth was he thinking when he offered to stay?

With a sigh, he walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open, not wanting to let Ianto out of his sight. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself Ianto was safe here, part of him just didn't seem to want to believe it. He ran the shower, took off his clothes and stepped under the water, the events of the previous day replaying in his head.

The tension, the fear, the unknowns. Gwen getting shot. Thankfully Owen could – sometimes – be trusted to keep a cool head, and despite his venom and attitude, he _was_ a good doctor. He would have to call him soon, check how Gwen was doing and make sure Rhys had been informed. Toshiko and Ianto being captured. He punched the tiles, causing the little shelf where Ianto kept his toiletries to rattle. Neither of them had told him any details, but the looks between them hadn't escaped him. She was trembling when Jack helped her into her place, lips tightly pressed and a determined look about her, as if she refused to allow what had happened to crush her faith in Humanity.

He swallowed hard, hiding under the water and letting it take away the dirt and the tiredness. He had seen all kinds of peoples commit all kinds of atrocities on each other. But none harmed their own in the way the inhabitants of Earth did in these dark centuries. He shouldn't have just barged in the way he did, taking the whole team into unfamiliar ground and a completely unknown situation. They could all have died out there, just because of the decisions he had made.

Ianto's words echoed in his head once again. Those quiet, matter-of-fact words that Ianto had thrown at him not so long ago. Someone had to make the decisions. And, when it came to Torchwood, 'someone' meant Captain Harkness. Still, it didn't make living with the consequences any easier. He shuddered, remembering how easy it had been to slip back into that dangerous persona of his, to hurt that man in the basement of the pub, to threaten him with more pain. He should know by now there were parts of his life he would never be able to walk away from.

With a sigh, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel Ianto had left out for him. Clean and crisp white and fluffy. He shook his head, trying too hard not to cling to small moments of normality like that. Normality – if it ever existed – never lasted long in Torchwood. One minute he'd be having breakfast, the next he'd be chasing after a Weevil. One minute Ianto and he were packing camping gear on the back of the SUV and a few hours later his team could have died. One minute he'd be enjoying Ianto's careful housekeeping, the next the Rift could spit out goodness knows what.

Or the Doctor could return. He shouldn't even be here, he should be back at the Hub, keeping an eye out for the TARDIS, making sure the Doctor didn't sneak out on him again. It shouldn't be long until he had to refuel, and Jack wasn't about to let him slip between his fingers. Of course, the Doctor, being a time traveller, could avoid this century altogether. But 21st century Earth was way too interesting for a Time Lord not to show up.

He froze. He couldn't leave now, could he? Torchwood needed him. These people were putting their lives on the line because he recruited them. They followed him, trusted him to keep them safe. He couldn't just leave them to their own. They would no doubt do a good job without him. But...

A soft groan coming from the living room took him out of the whirlwind of his thoughts. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he padded barefoot back to the sofa and leaned over its back to shake Ianto awake. Ianto startled and half-sat, eyes darting around the room for a second before settling back on the cushions.

"I think it's time for you to get some decent sleep." Ianto shook his head and opened his mouth to protest. "I can make that an order if you want." Ianto rolled his eyes and almost pouted, but reluctantly got up from the sofa and walked towards the bedroom. He watched. Wondered how Ianto would react if he followed. Because, if there was one thing he needed right now, was to be reminded that one Ianto Jones, of Cardiff, Wales, was very much alive, albeit a bit bruised. And there was no better way for that than to share a bed.

When Ianto stopped hesitantly, one hand on the door frame, and looked back, Jack raised an inquisitive eyebrow, wondering whether Ianto could somehow read him like an open book and figure out what he was thinking. Just in the same way that a coffee always would appear at his desk when he wanted one, or his coat would be held up for him to put it on at just the right moment.

"You should get some sleep too, Jack." A pause. A heartbeat. "And the sofa is not as comfortable as it looks."

He smiled. So did Ianto. Time for the calm after the storm.

Page 5 of 5


End file.
